The last visitor

The last visitor

It was in Bethlehem, at daybreak. The star had just disappeared, the last pilgrim had left the barn, the Virgin had tidied the straw and the infant was at last asleep. But, can one sleep during the night of Christmas?

Gently, the door opened, pushed, one might say, by a breath rather than by a hand. A woman appeared on the threshold, covered in rags, so old and so wrinkled that, in her earthen face, her mouth seemed like just another wrinkle.

Seeing her, Mary was seized with fear, as if it were an evil fairy that had suddenly entered.

Luckily, Jesus was asleep! The ass and the ox calmly chewed their hay and watched the stranger come closer without any sign of astonishment, as if they were acquainted with her since time immemorial. The Virgin did not take her eyes off her. Each step seemed to drag on for centuries.

The old woman continued to come forward and now she reached the edge of the manger. Thanks be to God, Jesus was still sleeping. But does one sleep on the night of Christmas?

Suddenly, he opened his eyelids and his mother was astonished to see that the eyes of this woman and the eyes of her baby were exactly the same and shone with the same hope.

The old woman then bent over the straw, while her hand searched for something in the folds of her rags and it seemed to take her centuries to find what she was looking for. Mary watched her with unceasing anxiety. The animals watched her too but they were not astonished, almost as if they had known a long time in advance what was about to happen.

Finally, after a long period of time, the old woman succeeded in extracting from her robes an object hidden in her hand and she gave it to the child.

After all the treasures brought by the Magi and the gifts of the shepherds, what could this present be? Mary was unable to see. She could only see the back bent with age and which bent over even more, leaning over the manger. However, the ass and the ox could see and they were hardly surprised.

It lasted for a long time. Then the old woman straightened up, as if released from a heavy burden that pulled her towards the ground. Her shoulders were no longer bent over, her head almost touched the covering over the barn, her face miraculously recovered its youth. When she moved away from the manger towards the door through which she would disappear, Mary could see what the mysterious present was.

Eve (because she was Eve) had placed a small fruit into the hands of the infant, the fruit of the first sin (and of all the many others that came afterwards). The small fruit shone in the hands of the newborn like a globe of a new world that had just been born with him.

Jérôme et Jean THARAUD, Les contes de la Vierge (Plon, 1940).